Separated By Inches
by Chezza
Summary: It's different this time. (SJ)


Title: Separated By Inches  
  
Author: Chezza  
  
E-mail: cyberchezza@tiscali.co.uk  
  
Status: Complete  
  
Sequel/Series: None  
  
Summary: It's different this time.  
  
Season: Seven  
  
Spoilers: Chimera, Heroes Part 2, The Lost City Parts 1 & 2, plus oblique references to A Hundred   
  
Days, Abyss, Paradise Lost and D&C  
  
Category: Character Thoughts/Episode Tag  
  
Characters: Sam Carter, Jack O'Neill, Teal'c, Daniel Jackson  
  
Pairing: S/J, teeny mention of Sam/Pete  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Warnings: Angst/Language/Minor Sexual Situations  
  
File Size: 43KB (in Word)  
  
Archive: Fanfiction.net, Helio, Gateworld, SJD, my site… If anyone else wants it, just lemme know   
  
where you're taking it, so I can come visit.  
  
Disclaimer: Ain't mine! Surprise…. Stargate and it's characters etc, belong to all those folks who   
  
actually make *money* out of them. Any original stuff in there is mine. Tho' sadly, it's unlikely to ever   
  
bring me any cash….  
  
Authors Notes: This fic is written in the same style as 'Helpless' as that seems to be what my muse   
  
prefers at the moment! And since this style of fic, is better than the alternative - which is no fic at all -   
  
I'm going with it.   
  
Also, for the third fic in succession, I've written the ending before anything else. And then the   
  
beginning and then the middle… Is this a good thing? Or a sign of bad writing? Please read and let   
  
me know…  
  
As always, thanks go to dragonlady for the beta. Flames will be used to light Teal'c's candles (not   
  
like *that*! Get your mind outta the gutter, f'cryin' out loud!). Constructive feedback and criticism on   
  
the other hand, is always gratefully received and appreciated.   
  
© Chezza, 2004  
  
~~~o0o~~~  
  
It's different this time. In many ways it's worse. Because he's right *there* and yet…he's not.   
  
She could always fool herself before, every other time he went missing, that wherever he was,   
  
whatever he was doing, he was safe. Perhaps working to bring himself home. To Earth, to her. Even   
  
as she struggled to do the impossible, to find the part of her that was missing, to bring him home, she   
  
could pretend that he was doing the same. Mirroring her actions on the far side of the galaxy   
  
somewhere. Because she didn't know for certain, she could even let herself believe that one day he   
  
might find his own way home, back to where he belonged, even though she knew it was unlikely. That   
  
the gate might spin up and he would stroll through and reclaim that place in her life that belonged to   
  
him and no-one else. She's long forgiven him for giving up on her. He's had faith in her ever since,   
  
which she's repaid twice over and each time, he's come back. To *her*.  
  
But this time it's different. Because he's not missing, not physically anyway. She knows exactly where   
  
he is, what he's doing – which is nothing, because that's the whole point of stasis really, isn't it? - but   
  
he's lost to her all the same. This time there are no flights of fancy, no false hope to keep her going,   
  
only cold, hard, facts. He's stood right in front of her, looking straight at her, but he might as well be   
  
on a different planet.  
  
~~~o0o~~~  
  
She studies the well-known face in front of her as she stands there, arms wrapped around her middle,   
  
hugging herself tightly. Slowly running her gaze over the planes and lines she has committed to   
  
memory a long time ago. She would know his face anywhere, it's become as familiar to her as her   
  
own, over the past seven years. From the scar cutting through his eyebrow – a faint smile crosses her   
  
face at the running joke; he calls it his weak spot, as the 'bad guys' always seem to choose it – to the   
  
way his eyes crinkle when he laughs and that cheeky-boy grin of his, which always flips her stomach.   
  
Her gut clenches at the thought of never again seeing his eyes light up with laughter, or witnessing his   
  
childish delight at finding some new toy to fiddle with. Never again having that warmth-filled look   
  
which makes her feel special, thrown her way or – oh god – never again catching that burning glance   
  
which takes both of them unawares, when they forget for a second who and what they are to each   
  
other. The possible loss of that unspoken promise filled with heat and fire, which makes her catch her   
  
breath and sends a shaft of pure longing through her *every time*, hits her like a physical blow and   
  
she flinches, as the thought solidifies into a heavy knot in her stomach.  
  
It feels much the same as the ice that separates them, only on the inside, and she knows if she does   
  
lose him, it will spread throughout her and consume her completely. For now she forces it back,   
  
holding on to the slim hope that Daniel has offered, that they will find Atlantis and they will be able to   
  
save him with what they find there. But it lurks, a hollow ache in the pit of her stomach that she knows   
  
will not fade until the barrier melts away and he steps from the alcove, giving them all a sunny smile   
  
and asking if he was missed.  
  
~~~o0o~~~  
  
Dimly, she hears the sound of the ring transporter. It's followed by Daniel calling a greeting and the   
  
low rumble of Teal'c's voice. He's back. Bra'tac ringed him up shortly after they – or rather he – had   
  
saved the world again. Teal'c had gone because she hadn't offered and Daniel was absorbed in   
  
studying the chamber. He had communicated with the Prometheus and they were to debrief onboard.   
  
Apparently there were a lot of people wanting answers.   
  
She knows she should be the one taking charge, making arrangements, being the good little officer,   
  
but she can't bring herself to step outside the chamber. She feels numb, as if this isn't really   
  
happening, as if she isn't all there and it's like losing Janet all over again. Even the ability to form a   
  
simple sentence seems to be beyond her at the moment. The thought of leaving him behind in this   
  
cold and lonely place whilst they head back to the normality – or as normal as life ever gets for the   
  
SGC – fills her with an irrational terror. She feels as if she leaves, she'll never see him again. Like he   
  
won't be here when – *if* - they are allowed to return, which is silly really, because where is he going   
  
to go? But the thought continues to plague her, playing in her head in a never-ending loop.  
  
She vows that when she gets him back, she will change things. She will make things change. She'll   
  
tell him and make him listen to her without interruptions and then she'll deal with the consequences.   
  
Even though she knows she won't, that he won't let her and she'll let him get away with it, because   
  
they're both too scared to take that final step. Because she knows that once he's home, the urgency   
  
will fade. What will actually happen is she'll tell him she's glad he's back, he'll make some witty   
  
comment about it being good to be back – both knowing what remains unsaid - and they will go on as   
  
always. Because the crisis is over, it's been averted once more, so there's no need to make either of   
  
their lives difficult and she'll go home to Pete on the weekend. Until the next time. And the time after   
  
that, until there are no more 'next times'.   
  
She feels the urge to cry. She wants to reach out and shake him for putting her in this position again,   
  
for dredging up everything she's tried so hard to bury. Everything she thought she *had* buried. But   
  
she can't even reach him to do that. She wants to curse and rail and punch her way through this   
  
barrier, to kick it into tiny pieces for doing this to her! Even though she knows it won't be damaged by   
  
anything she can do and she'll more than likely break her hand trying. Or her foot. Although she   
  
knows Teal'c and Daniel will pull her struggling form away, well before she does herself any   
  
permanent harm. But she does none of this. Instead she holds it all in, trembling with effort of   
  
suppressing the desire. Because it's not an action appropriate to her rank and position and more   
  
importantly, it's not something Major Carter would do.  
  
~~~o0o~~~  
  
She raises her hand and places it on transparent surface of what they've all decided is some kind of   
  
stasis booth. Her fingers trace the path her gaze took earlier, following the lines of his face through   
  
the surface of the booth. Like every other time she's touched it, it's hard, slick and cold, like ice. But   
  
she knows when she takes her fingers away, there will be no condensation on them where the   
  
warmth of her hand has slightly melted it, because whatever this substance is, however much it may   
  
look and feel like ice, it's not. She's tried to take samples, wanting to understand it, needing to do   
  
something, *anything*, to help, but it doesn't chip or flake and has broken every blade she's used on   
  
it. In the end, after her last attempt ended in the loud snap of failure, she gave up in frustration,   
  
flinging the broken shards across the chamber in disgust, narrowly avoiding a startled Daniel.  
  
She's beginning to think that she cannot solve this, that his only hope lies with their Ancient-  
  
translating archaeologist. She can hear him in the background, his voice a soft murmur as he   
  
converses quietly with Teal'c. He's been over every inch of this place in the last few hours, desperate   
  
to find a way to help his friend. His search for answers has been exhaustive, every piece of Ancient   
  
script has been noted and catalogued, but he has finally admitted defeat.   
  
There is nothing more he can do here, he needs to take what he's gathered back to the SGC, where   
  
he can reference his books and place it all into context. He is confident – at least he says he is, but   
  
she wonders how much of that is real and how much is him simply trying to reassure her – that the   
  
location of Atlantis will be in amongst these writings somewhere. She prays that he's right, something   
  
she hasn't done in years, but the doubts still remain. She is exhausted, wrung out by recent events…it   
  
would be so easy to give in to despair.  
  
She knows she thinks too much, *he* is always telling her that, but even if they do find this Atlantis   
  
place, who's to say it will hold the key to undoing what's been done to him? She wants to believe the   
  
answers will be there, that they will find the technology to save him, but standing here in the cold and   
  
the semi-dark, amongst the ice, it seems unlikely. Every time they think they've found it, it always   
  
turns out to not be the place they're looking for and she is starting to wonder if the damn city ever   
  
existed in the first place. She wants the answer to be *here* not in some mythical may-not-even-exist   
  
city, but she supposes that a large red button with 'Push here to fix everything' written across it in   
  
Ancient, is too much to ask. But it doesn't stop her wishing.  
  
~~~o0o~~~  
  
She places her hand flat on the glassy surface and pushes. Hard. The tension vibrates up her arm as   
  
her muscles tense and she watches in fascination, as the pressure pushes the blood from her fingers   
  
and turns them white. She stares intensely into his eyes, looking for some sign of life, a flicker of   
  
recognition in those deep brown depths, anything to tell her that he is still in there somewhere. But   
  
there is nothing. In a way she's glad. It means he's not aware of what's happening to him, is blissfully   
  
ignorant of being trapped in what amounts to little more than a glass-fronted coffin. At least she hopes   
  
that's what it means. She can't bear for it to be anything else. Not to mention the mortification she will   
  
feel if he does remember any of this.  
  
She stands almost nose to nose with the barrier. This close, she can see every line, every mark,   
  
every scar and tiny imperfection. She can study him in a way she has never been able before and a   
  
flash of guilt goes through her, for taking advantage of his predicament. And that is the truly pathetic   
  
thing about all of this; that it takes an Ancient's stasis booth, to bring her so close to him. Five inches,   
  
if that. It's all that separates them. A few inches and a whole load of technology she can't even begin   
  
to comprehend. It's nothing and it's everything. She's as close to him as she's been for a long time   
  
and yet at the same time, as far away as she's ever been.   
  
He might be right here in reality, but the gulf between them is as wide as the Grand Canyon and there   
  
is no way across. He's as unreachable and untouchable as always. Except that the barrier between   
  
them is now a tangible, touchable thing, rather than an invisible, non-existent line that must not be   
  
crossed…which somehow makes it worse. She thinks it's because it takes away the choice. They   
  
choose to keep the line in place, therefore they can choose to step over it, if they so wish. In a way,   
  
it's a promise, a form of security. Here, now, however, there is no choice and she wants to scream at   
  
the unfairness of having it taken away from her.  
  
~~~o0o~~~  
  
She closes her eyes, resting her forehead against the barrier's surface and wishes with all her heart   
  
that there was nothing between them, that it was him she was resting against. She presses her hand   
  
harder against the barrier. In her imagination, it gives slightly and she is able to force her hand   
  
through, as the substance softens around it. It envelops her hand slowly, reluctantly allowing her   
  
passage. It feels like Jell-O. She wiggles her fingers and then suddenly there is no resistance to her   
  
movement, her hand is through!   
  
She reaches further, sinking her arm in up to her elbow and grabs his hand. There is no response.   
  
She tugs firmly and is rewarded with a slight squeeze of his fingers in return. She tugs harder and his   
  
hand tightens around hers. She braces her arm and steps backward, pulling her hand out of the   
  
booth, steadily drawing him to her, until he's stood right there in front of her. He looks at her for a long   
  
moment, then she drops his hand and steps towards him, until there is nothing separating them any   
  
longer.  
  
Reaching up, she places one hand on his shoulder, the other on the back of his neck, bringing his   
  
head down to meet hers as she kisses him. His arms wrap around her, holding her tightly to him as he   
  
kisses her back, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. Eventually he breaks away,   
  
brushing his lips in a soft caress across her cheek, before burying his face in her neck and giving it a   
  
gentle nuzzle.  
  
"Sam." He murmurs roughly.  
  
~~~o0o~~~  
  
She opens her eyes and sees with bitter disappointment that nothing has changed. She is still on one   
  
side, he is on the other. As always.   
  
'Carter.'  
  
'Sir.'  
  
She ruthlessly chokes off the sob that escapes and stepping back, slaps her hand against the surface   
  
in frustration, relishing the stinging sensation that lances through her palm. She wonders if the   
  
universe appreciates the irony of their situation. It is after all, the perfect physical representation for   
  
them. Separated by inches, but divided by an impenetrable barrier.   
  
'Major.'  
  
'Colonel.'  
  
The thought of the first time they were separated, so close but unable to reach one another, the first   
  
time she truly realised what was between them, flashes through her mind and she decides that the   
  
universe does indeed appreciate the irony. Why else would it insist on putting them in these   
  
situations?  
  
~~~o0o~~~  
  
"Sam, we're ready to go!"  
  
Daniel's voice, calling to her from over near the ring platform, pulls her out of reverie and she feels a   
  
surge of anger at his interruption.  
  
"Just a minute!"  
  
She doesn't want to go, she hasn't accepted it as inevitable just yet. She needs longer, because she's   
  
not ready to leave him here. To leave him behind. Alone. In the cold and the dark. She knows they   
  
have no time left, that she has to go, that she is merely prolonging the moment, but still she doesn't   
  
move. She is frozen in place as assuredly as he. She won't leave him. She can't.  
  
She feels Teal'c's approach before he lays a warm hand on her shoulder to announce his intrusion.   
  
His body is a comforting presence behind her. Solid and real. He is always there, offering her strength   
  
when she needs it - never asking, never questioning - and she is grateful for his constant unwavering   
  
support.  
  
"MajorCarter, it is time for us to depart."  
  
She swallows hard, forcing back down the sob that rises up the back of her throat. To cry now will   
  
open the floodgates and she can't allow that. Not here, not now. She is in command and she has to   
  
be strong.  
  
"I know, Teal'c," she murmurs thickly.   
  
The hand on her shoulder exerts a gentle pressure, squeezing slightly in a silent gesture of comfort.   
  
She struggles with her composure, the urge to scream, to rant, to put up some kind of resistance at   
  
being forced to leave like this, looking for an outlet…even though she would never embarrass herself   
  
- or them – by creating such a scene.   
  
'We can't just leave him here!'  
  
"We must leave, in order for us to return with the answer."  
  
The pressure eases slightly and she sags as she gives a small laugh.  
  
"How come you always know just what to say?"  
  
"I merely speak the truth, MajorCarter."  
  
She nods and lets her fingers linger for several seconds more, slowly trailing her hand down the curve   
  
of his cheek, imagining for a fleeting moment that there is no layer of ice – or whatever it is –   
  
separating them by inches, that it is his skin beneath her fingers, then lets her hand fall to her side   
  
and steps back. Teal'c's hand drops from her shoulder at her movement. Her left hand wraps round   
  
her waist, hugging herself tightly once more, whilst her right comes up to swipe at her eyes. She   
  
shudders, then pulls herself straight, looking for a long moment into those familiar brown eyes, their   
  
empty gaze so devoid of the life they normally hold. Then she turns, faltering for a second, before   
  
walking away. She doesn't look back. She can't. Because if she does, she knows she will never   
  
leave.  
  
Teal'c's quiet words reach her ears as she makes her way over to the transportation rings where   
  
Daniel is waiting.  
  
"We shall return, O'Neill."  
  
His voice is a low rumble, filled with conviction and determination.  
  
"We will not leave you like this, my friend."   
  
'No,' she vows silently, as she steps up to Daniel, who assays a sad smile in return. 'We won't.'  
  
Daniel will find Atlantis and she will find something there to help him. She always does. Because to be   
  
separated from him, is more than she can bear.  
  
~~~End~~~ 


End file.
